


If I Can't Have You

by Emanium



Category: DCU
Genre: Dark, Dubious Consent, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-03
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-08-31 03:27:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8561815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emanium/pseuds/Emanium
Summary: Dick would take anything he could have.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted under a secondary account with the intention of keeping my AO3 more organized-- sadly both accounts are getting more jumbled lately. Now I'm just merging fics under this primary account. (When you see me doing dumb shtuff like this you can be sure my projects IRL are over.)

The first time they did it, his mind wasn't half sure who it was.

The night's patrol weighed down on him. Failing to save an orphanage from a remote controlled bomb was the last straw. His mind was too weary and some part of him felt shattered, broken, made empty from its core. He didn't stop to think how odd it was for Bruce- in civilian clothes, holding a glass of champagne- to be in his apartment in Bludhaven, at nearly four in the morning.

He probably aimed for a hug- knowing that the older man wouldn't reciprocate. Bruce would just stand there like a giant concrete wall, lifeless save his body warmth and the steady heave of his chest with every breath, not uttering a word. He would let Dick rest his forehead against his shoulder, steadily hold his head there for a little while, knowing that his very presence at the worst of times would be enough to sooth his boy's devastation.

But was it ever enough? For Bruce it might be, for Dick- he'd always wanted more.

So when the older man held up his chin and leaned in for a subtle brush of their lips, Dick's eyes grew wide with surprise, then desperation and want filled all the gaps. He returned the kiss with ferocity, with enough force to push the man into the couch behind them, shutting his eyes and praying that it would never end. Bruce- always in control- slowed their pace, and was almost gentle with the body in his arms. In Dick's humble mess of an apartment they made love till morning, and when Dick woke up a few hours later, Bruce was gone.

* * *

Their second encounter was much rougher, brutal even. But he'd had a hunch.

Not so much a hunch really. He'd just parted ways with Batman during patrol. The plan was to meet back in the alley in twenty minutes, then return to the manor. So when Bruce appeared, cowl pulled back and in an entirely different uniform, about twenty seconds after he'd left, Dick didn't even have to guess that this was either a talented super villain, or a parallel world replica, or both.

His hand hovered over the emergency contact button, but some part of his will wavered. He felt a strange sense of familiarity from this man, something that prompted him to ask himself: did he really want Bruce to know?

The man was watching him, the intensity of his gaze no different from his mentor's. But he was wearing a smirk, daring Nightwing to press that button, to alert Batman, to make known their relationship to his Bruce.

Nightwing lowered his hand by a fraction, as Bruce sank into his personal space and whispered at his ear, "Good boy."

He shut his eyes, feeling the warm breath at his ear turn to his neck, and shuddered as sure hands unzipped his uniform, exposing his bare skin to Gotham's seaside breeze. To his shame he wanted it, even if he knew it wasn't Bruce kissing his neck, biting his lip, drawing blood. Even if it wasn't Bruce turning him over and pumping into him in one clean, unforgiving thrust. It was still Bruce's voice at his ear, hoarse and dangerously low, muttering broken curses as he started thrusting into his partner's warm compliant body.

In Dick's unprepped state all he felt was pain, pain he would endure, pain he could almost enjoy, if it wasn't making him feel downright dirty and used. But he held onto the illusion that Bruce was murmuring sweet promises into his ear, he relished the safety he felt in Bruce's strong hold, the satisfaction he felt as Bruce's cock filled all of him and more. Bruce was fulfilling every fantasy of his fifteen year old self, and returning all his longing of a lifetime. That was what he kept repeating to himself, like a broken recording looping over and over again in his head.

Bruce came inside him with a grunt. With gloved hands he jerked Nightwing to climax, rough and fast with bruising strength that made Dick almost whimper in equal parts pain and need. He came with a stifled cry, as white splattered on his uniform, the sight obscene even to his own eyes. He found that he lost his balance as Bruce disappeared without another word, and he collapsed to the ground in a boneless heap.

The next second a weight landed on the ground behind him, with a loud thump that was so unusual of his soundless, sneaky mentor. He could almost hear the stumble in Batman's steps, and in one reluctant glance he could see the shock in Batman's body language. The sharp disbelief that was giving way to a colorful blend of worry, anger, and a trace of disappointment.

"What happened," he demanded, in a tone so icy that whatever hope Dick had was ground to ashes.

In that generous mixture of emotions, fury got to Batman first- "Why didn't you call me?" He growled.

Dick stood up, guilt and shame warring within. He tucked his spent cock back into his uniform, trying his best to hide the marks on his skin, yet knowing that Batman had still gotten an eyeful when he stood.

The silence between them was stifling. He could feel, acutely, every clutch and every claw, every grip and every bruise, every claiming mark that the other Bruce had painted on his body. He felt like a walking plastic bag of evidence, the same sort that he would occasionally label with a number and submit to his higher-ups, the same sort that would be presented in court and be used to determine a person's innocence or guilt, their worth, their life.

"Who-" Batman paused, weighing his words, his own conclusion already setting in his mind. "How long has this been going on?"

Dick finally looked up. The set of Batman's jaw made him look angry, but the slight tremble in his voice made him sound- to the ears of someone who had known him for almost a lifetime- frightened.

It was odd that Batman was doing all the talking, and Nightwing didn't answer, not once. He just wanted to disappear, to never again be seen by Bruce, never again see the disappointment and anger seep into his posture and his gaze. It made him feel rotten to the core that he accepted Bruce's doppelgänger, welcomed him even. He wanted it, and now he had doomed himself to never having this Bruce, his Bruce.

Batman turned and walked away, and Dick stood, frozen, still clutching his abdomen and suddenly wanting to puke. He leaned against a brick wall and gave in, throwing up his dinner and whatever junk food he had eaten during the late afternoon. His throat felt dry and his hips sore, his strength used up and his legs threatened to give way. It felt like a lifetime had passed while he was sitting there, staring at the soiled front of his uniform, wet stinging at the corner of his eyes.

Then sharp headlights flashed in his way, blinding him for a moment. Batman lowered his window and growled, "Get in the car."

He humphed and crawled up, ignoring the scream of his joints, or the cry of his muscles. His senses zeroed in on Bruce's exposed jaw, on the slight involuntary tremble, and for some reason it warmed him, for some reason it was enough.

* * *

"Coward."

Dick woke with a jerk, eyes wide with shock. He expected the vast ceiling of his room in the manor, but what he got was Bruce's face, leering at him from an inch away. The man pinned him down on his own bed, hands firmly on his wrists, knees on either side of his hips.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Dick hissed, frantically looking around. Not a thing was amiss. His door was locked, so were the windows, and there was no sign of a struggle or a fight. There wasn't an injured Batman lying somewhere in a puddle of blood, not anywhere that he could see.

"Shh-" The man gave him a light peck, just enough to make Dick shut his eyes and forget. "Bats have excellent hearing."

"This can't go on. Whichever universe you're from, you have to go back. You have to leave."

Bruce lowered himself, leaving a trail of kisses on Dick's neck, down to his collarbone, then further down, earning a soft moan from his boy. "Where I'm from, I've already lost what I'm looking for."

The momentary grief flicked away, and again his face was full of desire, of want- what Dick would give to see that emotion in Bruce's eyes. What he would give to see Bruce look at him not as a child, as someone beneath him, but a partner, an equal, a potential- just potential- lover. He gave in.

"Just once more," Dick consented, dragging the man in for another kiss, a hungry battle of tongue and teeth.

"I know when to stop," and from that Dick knew this Bruce had no intention of stopping, that no matter what he said, no matter how many restrictions and boundaries he set up, this Bruce would charge forward to have him. It would be a sick and twisted relationship, if one called such a relationship. He would not feel loved, he probably would never feel loved, but he relished, even in the tiniest bit, that he felt wanted.

"Tell me your name." He whispered, because even so- even after all the dirty, ugly fantasies he had of his mentor- he didn't want to tarnish Bruce in this corrupt, disgusting nightmare.

His desperation must have leaked into his voice, for the man had to steady him with a hand on his chest. Ever so slowly he leaned in and kissed Dick, savoring his taste and the small tremble of his lips.

"It's Thomas." He breathed against Dick's lips, a smirk forming on that impossibly handsome- yet incredibly familiar- face. "Let me hear you scream it when you come."


End file.
